


Backseat Comfort

by justtopostmyfic



Series: Backseat Comfort: Hurty Tony [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Peter Parker, Sick Tony, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Whump, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtopostmyfic/pseuds/justtopostmyfic
Summary: A relationship begins in the backseat of Mr. Tony Stark's car. The journeys are awkward, then intimate, and then filled with care.(Mostly, Tony suffers a migraine and Peter cares tenderly for him. Major hurt/comfort.)"Gonna throw up again?" Tony nodded weakly, shifting in discomfort."Okay, it's okay." Peter tried not to ask unnecessary questions when Tony was in so much pain. He wanted to be a solid and safe presence, the same way Tony was the last time they were in the car and his head was in Tony's lap.





	1. Three Rides

The first time Peter was in Mr. Stark's car, he was like a starstruck fanboy. Too many questions, too quickly. Mr. Stark was kind of exasperated, his answers snippy and puzzling. 

They touched for all of two seconds, although Mr. Stark insisted he was just getting the door for Peter. Secretly, Peter would take any affection from Mr. Stark. He didn't know if Mr. Stark had any intentions behind that courteous gesture.

Peter would never know exactly what Mr. Stark was feeling.

The second time Peter was on the cool leather of the backseat with Mr. Stark, the mood was somber and they spoke a lot less. Even Happy's back looked tense and square. 

Mr. Stark must have also been re-living the atrocities of the day, the same way Peter was. All the screams of civilians making up the sound of collective fear, so many lives almost lost that day.

Peter risked a glance across the seat to see the hard set in Mr. Stark's jaw and the distant gaze in his eyes. He looked away quickly and stared down at his own hands. 

A while later, Peter felt Mr. Stark tug at his wrist.

The next thing he was aware of was his head in Tony's lap. 

It was a clear moment in Peter's life he will remember well, the moment he started to think of Iron Man as Tony. Peter was staring up close at the pinstripes on Tony's pantsleg, the smell of Burberry or some fancy cologne mingled with sweat and adrenaline.

The soothing purr of the engine, the slight tremors in Tony's hand on his shoulder echoing Peter's pounding heart from the rough day. Oddly enough, the tremors in Tony's hand also marked the peacefulness Peter felt for the rest of the ride.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, kid." Tony said as Peter climbed out of the car. Peter managed a small wave as he shut the door.

The third time around was the most hellish ride for Tony that Peter had been there for.

"Happy, turn off the music." Tony mumbled quietly. Peter had not even noticed the light elevator music until it was absent.

Tony's arm curled loosely around his stomach, his other hand held his head against the window, shielding his eyes. 

Tony couldn't appear more different than the first time, and it startled Peter how _not Stark-like_ his demeanor was. He looked hunched over and small, all the dazzling cockiness replaced with an unfamiliar vulnerability. 

In the new silence Peter could hear Tony moan whenever Happy braked in the stop-and-go traffic of NYC.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked. "Migraine." Tony gritted through clenched teeth, after a few seconds. 

They sat in silence, Peter wishing he could help but being quiet was probably the best thing he could do for Tony right then.

They were still not out of Manhattan traffic when Tony started to fidget more. He divested his jacket, hands fumbling a few times. His hand that was shielding his eyes was now clamped over his mouth, his eyes darting out the tinted window anxiously. 

Peter could hear whimpering increase in between Tony's slow, uneven exhales. In that moment, Peter knew exactly what Tony was feeling: all his energy was spent on trying not to vomit.

"I need to... let me out, Happy." Tony said urgently. 

Happy braked hard and angry horns started sounding behind them. Peter had a split second to decide in following Tony out the car, because Happy couldn't idle the car on this street.

Peter knew he made the right choice as Tony was assaulted by the bright street lamps; he was almost doubled over, hands on the car for balance.

It was night time, and the angry drivers behind didn't know and didn't care that it was billionaire Tony Stark. Peter shut the door and manhandled Tony off the road so Happy could circle the block and the incessant honking would stop. He shouldered most of Tony's weight while guiding him into the closest alley.

Once they rounded the corner of the alley, Tony crouched down, one hand bracing himself against the filthy brick wall and the other clutched at his stomach. Tony's eyes were squelched shut in pain, his face an unhealthy greyish pallor. 

Tony was moaning constantly now, like he was no longer trying to hid it. They both knew what was coming. Peter hoped the smell of garbage would hasten Tony being out of his uncomfortable misery, but that wasn't the case.

They stayed like this for a while, Peter also crouched beside Tony, his palm on Tony's upper back rubbing slow circles. Peter chose to position himself on the outside to give Tony some semblance of privacy and obstruct the view any passers-by might have of the sick man. 

It was a safe neighborhood even in the night, and his Spidey sense would alert him if anything undesired entered the alley.

Tony started to dry heave and cough wetly. Peter kept up with rubbing small circles and supporting Tony's arm. "I'm here for you, Tony," was all he whispered. 

Tony retched in response, his back spasming. The first wave was non-productive but still painful sounding. In the second and subsequent waves, Tony vomited a brown mess that splattered unceremoniously on the ground between choked sobs.

Peter tried not to look at the fresh puddle by Tony's shoes, didn't want to think about how his own half-digested meal looked like that, since they ate the same dinner. Instead he continued rubbing Tony's back, occasionally squeezing his tense shoulders. 

Tony's eyes squeezed shut again, head bowed. If his eyes were opened, he would be staring straight at his vomit.

"Gonna throw up again?" Tony nodded weakly, shifting in discomfort. 

"Okay, it's okay." Peter tried not to ask unnecessary questions when Tony was in so much pain. He wanted to be a solid and safe presence, the same way Tony was the last time they were in the car and his head was in Tony's lap.

With his back to the street, Peter didn't see that Happy has circled past twice already.

The second time happened much the same way, even though Tony had less to vomit. Tony lifted his head, Adam's apple bobbing while he swallowed convulsively against his throat opening. Finally, Tony gave up against the nausea, chest and shoulders tensing as he vomited again.

The mess by Tony's feet grew bigger. Peter didn't mind anymore, he was looking at Tony's chalk-white face in concern. Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to stand slowly. 

Peter helped Tony to the main street, they would have to wait for Happy to drive by again. The ailing man flinched against the bright lights of the street, and Peter did everything he could to make Tony comfortable. 

He positioned Tony with his back to the traffic (it was a one-way street, thankfully), so the headlights of passing cars wouldn't stab Tony's head. Again, it helped Tony with privacy and to avoid recognition too: if anyone in the cars paid attention to them, they would only see the back of Tony's head. 

Tony's head rested against the brick building, still trying to blot out the light. Peter hesitated for a moment, then stood in front of Tony.

"Come here," he whispered in a low voice, guiding Tony's head towards his shoulder.

Tony was taller than Peter, but it worked out. Tony let out a small sigh of relief as his head nestled into the darkness of Peter's shoulder.

"Migraine still bad?" Peter hoped the vomiting would relieve the pressure in Tony's head, even a little. Tony stilled, then nodded minutely, as though reluctant to admit that. 

Peter's hand came up to massage the nape of Tony's neck for a bit. He didn't hug Tony, this was awkward enough in public and Tony's stomach was still touchy.

Peter couldn't see much past Tony's shoulder, as much as he tried to keep an eye out for Happy. Tony was starting to shiver in the night air and Peter hoped Happy would-

"Peter!" Peter turned his head out of Tony's chest. Happy was calling him with the window rolled down. 

Peter shuttled a dazed Tony to the car as quickly as he could, opening and closing the door for him. Then he jumped in on the other side before cars behind started honking too much. 

It seemed like this wasn't the first time this happened on Happy's watch. Tony's discarded jacket was gone from the backseat. Happy had laid out two cold bottles of water, a box of tissues and a clean ice bucket in the backseat. 

Peter had a sinking suspicion the bucket wouldn't stay clean for the rest of the ride.

Tony's head lolled against the head rest, trying to breathe steadily. He was sprawled quietly until Happy braked for the third stop light in a row. 

"Nooo..." he groaned as he pulled himself up into a slouch, his head cradled in his hands.

He pulled the bucket between his feet as he lurched forward to place his head over it. Peter sidled over to the middle seat, his hands returning to Tony's back and arm for support. 

"We'll be out of the city soon." It was a cold comfort for the distressed Tony.

Tony sat like this for a while, whimpering in pain every time the car jostled his head. Finally he started to dry heave and retch, bringing up only a thin stream into the bucket.

Peter supplied him with tissues and an opened bottle of water after each painful-sounding bout. For all other times, Tony seemed to like Peter's hand on his back, so Peter kept it there.

Now that they were in the safety of the car, Peter could let his Spidey guard down. Every street lamp they passed cast a light on Tony's face at a constant tempo. 

In the dim light Peter could see the lines illuminated on Tony's face when he was holding him so closely. Around his eyes, down his cheeks and around his mouth. Tony was old... much older than he was. Peter still had acne more days than not.

Tony's face pinched in pain again, deepening their lines. Without the suit, Iron Man was so human and fallible. Peter's heart ached with a tenderness he thought only Aunt May was capable of feeling.

He wanted to take care of Tony for as long as Tony would let him. And do other stuff with Tony close to him as well, stuff Aunt May should never know the details of.

Any budding erection wilted when Tony started coughing again. He braced himself towards the ground, like a cat with a hairball. A dribble of yellow bile escaped Tony's lips. Peter winced in sympathy, not for the first time that night. 

Beneath his palm, he could feel Tony struggling to dry heave more with his migraine still plaguing him but having nothing left to throw up.

When Tony stopped hacking, Peter patiently offered tissue, water, rinse, repeat. Tony was finally able to lift his head up, and turned around to look at Peter. 

His face was drawn and tired, clearly from being so ill, though his features remained expressive, his brown eyes clouded with pain but inquisitive.

It felt like Tony was really seeing him for the first time, and looking right through him with an unreadable expression. Peter was suddenly worried that Tony was going to kick him out, make him take the subway the rest of the way so he didn't see Tony like this anymore.

Peter really didn't want to leave Tony in this state, and he blurted out, "I... Let me stay and help. Can I come home with you, Tony? I just want to help Happy get you into the house. You probably want to be alone and not... It's better if we didn't make a detour to my house first, then you could..." he was rambling again, like the first time.

"Yeah, thanks Peter." Tony rasped, throat raw from all his bouts of vomiting.

Tony finally felt okay enough to recline back in his seat, leaving Peter's arm trapped behind his neck. He looked into Peter's concerned face, smiled wanly, then his eyes drifted shut in exhaustion.

They sat like this for the rest of the ride to Tony's penthouse: Tony cradling his stomach, and Peter cradling Tony.


	2. Epilogue: Tony's Realization

Everyone wanted to be around him, but mostly for his money, power, and vast resources. 

Tony could recall on one hand the number of people who have stood by him while he was sick: Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, _Bruce_. His chest constricted at the thought of Bruce, and tears prickled behind closed eyes that were not caused by his throbbing head. Best not to think about Bruce now.

His father hated to see him so much as sniffle, and even his mother stuck him with a bucket in the bath tub, leaving him to fend for himself and summon the house staff when he was done. If Jarvis was on duty, he would be the only one who would sit with Tony. This hurt to remember as well, but a little less.

Tony's unrelenting mind dregged up numerous one-night stands where his hangover hit him early and they would flee the hotel room in disgust, stopping only to shove on their bras or boxers, and grab the rest of their scattered clothes. He flinched at the memory stream.

And here was Peter. Did the kid's sense of smell even work right? Because Tony could smell the vomit on himself, and he would definitely want to get away from himself if he could. Yet Peter was holding and comforting him, cushioning his sensitized body against the bumps and turns in the road. 

The migraine would have walloped him a lot worse if Peter hadn't been here. 

Peter's hand on his back soothed the vise grip of the migraine marginally, as best as a simple touch could. It grounded him so he knew which way was up, kept him from face-planting. Peter helped to save a bit of his dignity, and having him close made Tony feel like he wasn't so alone in his suffering.

Tony would never admit this to anyone, but he liked being taken care of when ill. Maybe partly because of his barren childhood, and partly because he was not always strong enough to play the superhero-megacorporation pinup. 

He would never admit to this much introspection either. 

The few people who had seen him sick probably guessed that Tony liked their comfort, and had picked up on his quiet gratitude. Not many would stick around after seeing him at his weakest and grossest, and Peter makes only the sixth person in Tony's whole life. 

Peter had even offered to come home with him, which was probably a good idea because Tony knew he would be dead weight getting through the door and all the way into bed. 

As if he wasn't already having a spark of interest in the kid for his unbridled sense of wonder, his virtuousness, his spirited humor, and how damn great the Stark Spider-suit fit only him.

Tony didn't want to get into a serious relationship soon after-- the last one, but Peter was making him seriously reconsider. 

Tony knew the kid hero-worshipped him, a blind monk could see that, but Peter was growing into a better man and superhero than Tony remembered ever being. So, by Tony's logic, only good would come from spending more time with Peter. 

The young man hugging him is special, and Tony wanted to see the world through the wide-eyed lens of Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this fic to have a totally different mood from the trailer's car "hug" scene. And I'm all about that Tony whump!
> 
> Lets just say Peter is of legal age.


End file.
